Mercy
by Rosalia Tiri
Summary: [He was an experiment; He was a hitman. They came from different worlds, and meet in the world where Pride, Guns and Bloodshed decide one's life: The Mafia. And in the Mafia, it's all about giving Mercy.] AU; R27 (romantic, friendly, and family included)
1. The Hitman and the Experiment

**Yeah I know. New story while I can't even update the others. Read my profile please for what I have to say, yes? Yes. Thanks! 3**

* * *

Black in the midst of a rainbow, would be bound to get noticed.

In a place like this, clad in the black to boot with barely any color, one would be spotted immediately.

An aura such as this, was not to be taken lightly.

A woman, a young blossom with thick make-up and such revealing skimpy outfits, noticed him. She knew him as that man who entered that house in the corner, and never came out until business hours have finished. He was enigma, yes, and she knew, if she got him to stay here for once, she'd be bestowed with rewards. And so she took the initiative. "Fedora man, hey! Why not give us a try for once, hm~?" There, she grasped his attention. Blue eyes darted to her companions, all young blossoms as well, and sent them a voiceless message to follow. They did.

"Yes, why not? After all, it's not fair that you fancy only one brothel after all!" Another one added in, earning herself a choir of agreements. They looked at him as he turned to face them, all struck by lust as they saw his facial features. However, they paid no mind at all, to the aura that was different from the rest, or the fact that his eyes remained still and unnerved.

A chuckle rang out from the back of the group. "You know what they say: Buy One, Take All!" Hearing this, the women laughed among themselves, smiling at the inside joke made.  
Real laughter.

True joy.

Or...is it?

"No thank you, signorinas." The man in question tipped his fedora upwards, which was what made him different from the rest, and gave a smirk that somehow sent them silent. "I'm only committed to one house only, and that alone." He said, as if in a whisper; a loud one. He then proceeded to bring back his fedora down, and covered his eyes, turning away from them. "However, I would keep your offers in mind."

That seemed to have brought back the glee to the prostitutes, as they laughed and chuckled among themselves. They waved cheerfully at the man's retreating back, as said man made his way to the house he was oh-so loyal to. "Good bye, Fedora man!"

Not even once did they notice, the deep obsidian hues of his, that eyed each one of them earlier, with different emotions. He continued walking, smirking to himself, and said eyes glowed menacingly under the brim of his fedora. The image of the women's gleeful faces and cheerful noise imprinted themselves in his memory, like a video or a picture so to say, before it was slowly consumed by flames. The flames, which were as red as crimson blood, mixed with the dark despairs of his mind's depth. The gleeful expressions slowly morphed into expressions of sadness, depression, and fear; the sounds of laughter and joy became distorted, and began mixing themselves into screams of agony and fear... The smirk was replaced by a gentle smile, a smile which seemed to speak louder than the screams in his mind, or the laughter around him.

Such joy...such glee...they didn't last, nor will they ever, in his opinion. They were useless in his life, and seeing such things irked him greatly. To think, that they tried to make it as real as possible, when it was obvious to him, that it would never be real. The fantasy of it all was simply disgusting. Those whores couldn't even do a great impression of fake sincerity if they tried. It was amusing, yes, but it disgusted him to no end.

He stopped in his tracks, turned around, and eyed the group of women that attempted to win him over just earlier. Lifting his fedora once more, his eyes glowed brighter, and he opened his mouth gradually, whispering only one word. One word, and suddenly, fire engulfed the brothel he stopped by to chat with the women. That one, simple, word, that caused a massacre of a whole whore house in a matter of seconds. "Chaos."

"Heh," And he walked away slowly, glow fading, fedora down, yet the deadly smirk remains. Screams filled the air as agony and fear decorated it. Blood was on the floor and walls, and the women-oh the ugly, disgusting, fake, women...He was satisfied; There wasn't enough pain, enough agony, in his opinion, but it'll have to do. He couldn't afford to create a mess yet, lest he looses this power that makes him the best. This power that gives him all he desires. This power...this deadly power that gives him the chance to eradicate all those who defy him; disgust him; irritate him...

And who knows, even the whole world if he felt up for it.

* * *

The darkness was a scary, scary thing.

It was scary in the way it can frighten pure boyren with monsters under their beds, or even adults with nightmares.

But was was more fearful with it, is that it calms those who it has corrupted beyond repair. And that in itself, is to be feared.

"Let me out of here! Let me out!" Chains shackled against the metal bars, as a brunet shook the bars while shouting. "LET ME OUT! I DON'T DESERVE THIS! LET ME OUT YOU BASTARDS!" The white ensemble he wore was now grey, holes opening on the sides and back, and splotches of red and other colors decorated it. Bare feet and hands were rough and covered with blisters, very unlikely for those his age. Chains were attached to his body, ensuring of his captivity-on the neck, his ankles, and his wrists.

He knew that this place, this ugly place, was nothing but a hellhole. It was always dark here...always so lonely. These people never gave him much company, and those that did, are long gone. Everyone here was a bastard, nothing more, nothing less.

A scoff was heard and a pocket knife flew his way, hitting him straight in the eye and knocking him down on his back. "Trash." The man mumbled. He stood up and walked towards the jail cell, and hovered over the poor boy, who screamed as he tried to remove the knife from his eye.. "You deserve to be here, idiot. You were useless, so they gave you to us. And now that we're giving you use..." He brought his foot up to him, and stomped on his stomach. The boy sat up, wheezing, to glare at him, the knife beside him and one had covered his wounded eye. "You should be thankful instead."

"Why s-should I be thankful?!" The stab wound on his eye was taking a toll on him. His vision was blurring, and his breathing was getting ragged. Yet, he could clearly see the ugly smirk the man had on his face. It irritated him to no end, seeing that same smirk every day as he, and his friends, took pleasure on using him and abusing him endlessly. "You're a-all nothing but useless bastards y-yourselves anyway! T-That's why you're here right? B-Because...you guys are no better than me!"

The last line struck the man hard, and blinded him with rage. "Why you!" The man dove in for another kick, but was sent back flying with an unknown force. "What the?" He was brought up in the air, and harshly slammed back down to the cold, hard, ground. Once again, the air carried him upwards, before smashing his head repeatedly into the ceiling, drawing out blood each time it was done. The man was having a terrible concussion, but was continued to be hit against the ceiling even harder. He had no time to shout or ask for help, as he heard a distinct crack from his head and neck. Slowly, his knees began to twist themselves into a weird angle, and so did his arms. The pain was getting unbearable. It was hell.

Suddenly, it stopped.

He was still for a while, before the pain came back tenfold. He can feel his joints and bones, which have been dislocated as they twisted, go back into place slowly and forcefully. The cracked parts of his skull, and his neck, began repairing themselves, and so did the damaged skin on his scalp. He screamed in agony and fear, tears prickling at his eyes which he closed. Opening them a bit, his vision was blurry, but he was able to recoginize one thing in the dimly-lit room

The boy.

"I...made a mistake...eraser..." In the boy's mind, a drawing was being drawn by itself. There, on the big white paper, was a sketch of the man. A boyish sketch of a stick man, to be exact. Around the man were eraser shavings, red was clearly seen in them. The boy looked into the distance, as if in a trance. The man paid no mind to the amber hues turning into a bright orange, staring into space still. The drawing needed to be perfect! A child was, at heart, a perfectionist. Children erased a lot, crumpled a lot papers, and make mistakes. But sometimes, enough is enough. "I...can't make it perfect." He mumbled sadly to himself, eyes looking down at the chains on his ankles.

This was a disgusting work. It was, in his opinion, so ugly. He's made too much erasures, and that won't do. He needs to be awesome!

Ah-he spotted a shine from the side, before looking back up at the man. "I guess I'll just have to throw you out then. But first..." The knife slowly floated into the air, and stopped once it was in front of the man. He sighed. "I need to do this." The knife multiplied itself into a few more pieces, all pointing at the man similar to a dart board. "I'll need to cut you up!"

The lone oil lamp was blown away, leaving the room engulfed in darkness. Screams filled the room, and so did the sounds of bones cracking and clothes ripping. Only one source of light was left, and that was the little boy's eyes. Those eyes that assessed what was going on-assessed his drawing. In the midst of the shouting, he mumbled to himself something. Something that was fairly normal indeed, but in his current situation, was disturbing. It wasn't normal for him...or for anyone.

"It worked after all."

After this, he lost consciousness, and fell into a deep slumber, calmed by the darkness.

* * *

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Silence.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Enter."

"Lucia-."

"Please, Reborn. Luce."

The man, Reborn, stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him. The room was dark, and the windows were closed along with the curtains; the only light came from the fire place, where a pregnant woman, Luce, sat by. Her back was facing against him, azure eyes focused on the small, child's necklace as she held it between her fingers. "Luce-"

"Reborn." Luce interrupted him once more. "I know what you're here for. Do just leave it for another day. I am in no mood to give you a mission."

Reborn frowned. "And why not? Is it because of her death? Luce, you can't just stay like this forever. You're our leader; When the sky breaks, we all fall down." He said. "It is hard to bear with it, but come on, you need to get back into shape. What would you do if you were attacked in your current state?!"

Silence reigned between them. It was a while before Luce spoke once more. "I'll gladly surrender my life." Luce's eyes glowed a dull light as she turned her head to face him. Reborn stayed silent, knowing what she meant. "I have no more reason to live. My daughter is gone. I just can't anymore."

"...I don't ever recall you being this way, Luce." Reborn whispered. "Have you finally fell this low? Have you grown that soft?"

Luce chuckled dryly, before turned into a loud, harsh, laugh. "This is the problem with you Reborn; You're too engrossed with your life. We're mafiosi, dear, but we're human too. Kill me then, if I've grown soft, as you say. But you know what Reborn, not being soft, not being human..." The glow shifted into a determined one, but sadness still remained in her eyes. "Will be your ultimate downfall."

A growl was heard from the man. This was not the woman whom he had served for so long. This was a stranger. Unknown. "Tch." Reborn clicked his tongue, before turning around, going out, and shutting the door behind him.

The pregnant woman stared at the door, before looking back at the necklace in her hands. It was made out of a silver chain for boyren, and the pendant was a pink heart. It was small enough to be a bracelet for her, but for her child, it was only for her neck. The glow disappeared, and tears began to form from the corner of her eyes. Bring the necklace to her lips, she closed her eyes and whispered, "Arianna..."

It was okay, for her, to be left alone. To be judged. Hated. But...this necklace...that child...She meant more than those.

* * *

"Tsuna, you've outdone yourself this time." A green-haired boy mumbled as he bandaged the brunet's eye. "Going that far to try the effects of an experiment on someone else huh? I'm not sure if you're being a genius by doing that stupid experiment, an all-out idiot, or both." The voice was blank and bored, but the brunet knew he was worried. His eyes, those dulled emerald hues that were usually void, were soft and gentle as they examined his injured eye. "I've been gone for a week, and this is what happens. Nice one, Tunafish. Nice."

The brunet, Tsuna, nodded shyly. "I'm sorry, Fran. But thanks for this." He said, looking up at the older male and smiling softly at him. Fran pat the make-shift bandage he made, and nodded. Tsuna stood back up, and helped the green-haired boy to do the same. They dusted themselves off, and looked at their surroundings. The man was gone, and nothing was going on. No one would be a replacement for him soon, as the officials of the place are gone for a while; A good thing for the duo.

It was quiet. Eerily quiet in the dark. However, the two felt comfortable, more comfortable than they ever have been. These moments were rare between them, these quiet and peaceful moments in this...hell. It gave them a moment to collect their thoughts, to breathe easily and normally, and just be at rest. Once the replacement comes...these would all disappear. There would be beatings again, experiments...harsh words...abuse. Hell.

That's all this place ever was really: Hell.

"Hey, Fran." The green haired boy twitched in acknowledgment. "How was it there-with the other doctors I mean? Were they nicer there, or worse?" Tsuna asked, worry lacing his voice. "Are...are you still Fran?"

Fran shrugged. "It was...the same." He mumbled. "Less beatings though. Just more experiments-they call it "showing off"-in front of other scientists. It was like some kind of freak show, you know. Like, I was a sacrifice to a bunch of fairies." He deadpanned. A chuckle was heard from Tsuna. Funny how in their situation right now, Fran, the ever blunt and stoic one, can still crack an unintentional joke. "Good thing you weren't there. I don't think I'd like the view of my friend being a sacrifice for fairies. Ew."

"Eh!" Tsuna squeaked at this. "I-I won't be a sacrifice! T-That's why I'm practicing my techniques, Fran. I'm gonna be as strong as you, or even stronger, so I can break us out of here!" The brunet declared to him, a determined shine in his lone eye. Bringing up a hand to him, he folded his fingers and showed only his pink. "L-Let's pinky promise on it."

The other boy remained blank on that. Nonetheless, he walked towards him, and showed his pinky too. "Well, Tunafish, what would we promise on then?" He sighed at the clueless look his friend had. "Hey, a promise works both sides. It can't be you're gonna get us out, since that's one-sided. It needs to be two-sided."

Fran had a point, Tsuna supposed. He pondered on about it for a while, before brightening up with an idea. "What about this: Let's promise that...um...we'll be strong to get each other out one day and uh, that we'll be together forever?"

Silence took over them again. Something sounded wrong with it-terribly wrong. Fran could sense it already...he knew this had great risks. He could see it now: the visions of bloodshed and pain, tears mixing into everything and them being alone in the middle of ruins. Them being...one alive, one not. He understood. But...he wanted to take his chances. He could change that. Meeting this little kid right here brought in some hope, and he trusts that hope. With his life.

Fran locked his finger with his. "Hold onto that now."

Tsuna nodded gleefully. "Y-Yes!"


	2. Wake Up Call and a New Formula

**...Whoa. I'm perfectly fine with the reviews since its your choice in things...but to think there are already following and adding me on their favorites just dfdsgsdgsdsdsgz. **

**Thank you very much for your review, Ayz283! Glad it interested you, and thanks! ()(3) [remove the parenthesis and put them together XD]**

**Hopefully I can keep this going for as long as I can. Leave a review if possible-but I won't force you of course XD. **

**Now, Enjoy!**

* * *

A loud slap resounded inside the room, making the occupants deathly silent. His black fedora flew across the room from the intensity of the slap, landing near the door. The sound of ragged breathing then followed the silence, before a shout.

"Why did you say that!?" A navy-haired woman growled. "It was okay for us if you blew up the whole Red Light District, Reborn, but you've gone too far with you shitty attitude! You knew she was hurting-Reborn, she's still human! We may have lost our sense of humanity to get stronger, but she struggled hard not to. Give her some gratitude to asshole!"

Reborn stayed silent, head facing the side, a red line marred on his left cheek. He had no words to counter hers, because he knew it was true. It was his fault that this happened to him, and maybe, this was retribution. He stayed silent, not wanting to anger the woman any further.

But said woman was not done yet with her rage. "What, now you got nothing to say, you smug bastard?" She said, a bit calmer now. Yet, anger was evident in her voice. The scar on her cheek seemed to glow from her anger, and seemed to resurface when it was already healing. "This is what's wrong with you, Reborn. This is what makes you...an outcast. It's always about you-you-you and you. Yeah, we're Arcobaleno, the strongest group of shit in the Mafia, but come on, even we need to be decent bastards to be who we are."

"I'm not self-centered, Lal." Reborn finally spoke, still not facing the woman. "I do what's best for what I think. And I think that Luce needed that wake up call that she needed to snap out of that useless trance."

In his mind, Reborn was going haywire. Pictures were everywhere, pictures of this woman. His memories took out her pictures, and scattered them on a table. Pictures of her laughing hard, blushing, serious...everything he had on her. And slowly, bit by bit, a fire engulfed the table from the feet. It crept up slowly...surely...until it reached the pictures...her pictures...Black eyes slowly began to glow, and it took all his self-control to not let loose, and be unnoticed about it too.

A scoff came from the woman, Lal. A dry smirk crawled its way up to her facial features as she placed a hand on her hip. "'Useless trance,' you say? You've been in that same fucked-up trance before, you know. You don't have any right to say that." She said, her anger now in control. "And also, you bastard, what you think isn't always necessarily right. So, when you act on that wrong belief, it makes you self-centered because you actually believe that you're correct, when you're not." She frowned. "Or maybe yet, self-absorbed would be a good word."

"Lal." A stern voice came from the sidelines. Concerned blue eyes mixed with seriousness glowed and bore into her lightly glowing burgundy ones, somewhat trying to calm her down and place her down. Lal's eyes widened, before she narrowed them again, and sighed.

"Reborn." Now, said blue eyes drifted to man clad in black, noticing the glowing obsidian hues. "Reborn, look at me."

Said man turned to look at him, and glared. "Colonello." Reborn said, a promise of pain evident in his voice. "What do you want? Going to lecture me too?"

"No." The blonde, Colonello, said. "I wouldn't want to waste my time on you. I know for a fact you actually didn't listen to Lal, so what makes me think you'll listen to me?" He deadpanned, clicking his tongue. Cerulean hues glowed brighter, and Reborn winced as his eyes' glow dimmed. Colonello smirked. "I'm not gonna do anything to both of you. I'm only doing this to be what I am-the calming rain." His eyes drifted to the both of them, and he opened his mouth. "Kora!"

In a flash, both of them fell to their knees, glows gone; Lal fainted, and Reborn pulled himself back up immediately. He got his fedora, placed it back on his head, and sighed. It was lucky he was able to control himself.

Dusting himself of any dirt, he turned to face the others, and locked eyes with Colonello, and gave a small nod of gratitude. Colonello nodded back, and Reborn walked out the room, silently, his mind and heart calmed by the rain.

* * *

"What is this new formula all about, Verde?" A scientist asked the other, Verde. "Would you mind telling us?"

A man with dark green gravity-defying hair looked at him, and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Of course." The man, Verde, said. "After all, you men have the best test subjects i know of-though I've never seen them-they produce effective results, from your records, no?"

The other scientists chuckled and nodded in agreement, darkness lacing their laughs. That's right. Professor Verde, part of the Arcobaleno, would never find out about their test subjects. Their...experiments. All they would give him is the information and the money for buying his formulas and all. It was a fair give and take on the scientists' part, but clearly, Verde needed to take more in this case.

"Well," Verde began, taking out a glass casing, in which inside swirled a clear, transparent liquid. "I've been working on it for quite some time now, but it has not been given a definite label yet." He said. "This formula is a mix of the three most noted formulas I've given you all, but all have been partially diluted in order to mix effectively and normally as possible. Now, care to enumerate the previous ones I've given you."

One scientist spoke up for all. "Sir, you have given us a lot, but the three most significant ones are S324-11, which makes ones flames stronger and clearer by force; R887-X, which makes ones inner power come out and be twisted into something else if acted upon immediately; T59804, the most dangerous one so far, as it not only forces out the flames twice as hard as S324-11, but it also forces out every other power they have, and works harder and more efficiently on those with flames, and those with the power that only a handful of mafiosi have: Splendore."

Verde smirked noticeably, his own dark green hues giving their soft glow at this statement. Bringing up the glass in front of his eyes, he focused on it and mumbled, "Strike."

The glass was then struck by lighting, and said form of light cackled around it. Verde was not hurt at all, of fazed. Instead, he took this chance to explain more. "Correct. I've taken all those formulas and struck them with lightning flames in order for them to be properly diluted-don't worry, this won't be diluted any longer, as the case is lighting, bullet, and fire-proof-. Afterwards, I mixed them together, and added some things that weren't in the previous ones: Gunpowder, and...Blood."

Lighting stopped cackling, and the glow faded. "Not evident, right? The blood I've placed here is no ordinary blood, gentlemen. It's a mixture of certain people's blood, which have taken great efforts to find, and mixing these rarities have caused a great chemical reaction, in which it has turned clear. And the gunpowder selected is a special type: the ones those under Millefiore use against Vongola."

A scientist raised his hand for all. "Sir, whose blood samples have you placed, that makes it so special?"

"Heh." Verde smirked. "Good question there, gentlemen. These blood is no ordinary blood, as you can see. I would love to tell you, but first..." Again, the glow was seen, and all scientists realized what this was. Was the secret this big?

"I'll have you all swear under Omerta for this."

* * *

The metal bars slid open as another figure entered the jail cell of the two boys. Eyes hidden by his hat, he analyzed the two. One, the green-haired boy; Fran...he's seen him before, the Presented Experiment just last Thursday, from what his memory says. He was dull, blank, emotionless, and very blunt to the point that it becomes insulting.

He was interesting though...but then his eyes drifted to the other one, the brunet; Tsuna.

He took in the appearance in his mind. Short and girly in appearance, quiet as well, but not as blank as the other. He noticed the makeshift bandage over his eye, and he smirked.

This would do.

Harshly, he grabbed Tsuna's arm and brought him up, earning a cry of pain from said boy. That seemed to have riled up a reaction from the other, as he stood up as well and glared. "What are you fatasses doing?"

The man twitched, but kept his smirk in tact. "Heh. I'm taking yer friend for anoth'r round." He took in the facial expression of the green-haired kid: Blank. But his eyes spoke a different story altogether. "Don't worry, it ain't the usual, no. He's gonna be treated _extra_ special today, with all 'em new formulas coming in." He was gruff and had an accent, and that irritated Fran. A lot. "What, stop glarin' at me, kid."

"I'm not a kid, you dumbass." Fran said bluntly. "We're teenager, unlike you, an old man."

"Well, I care nuthin' 'bout yer ages nor mine." The man scoffed and hurled Tsuna over his shoulder. "But the only thin' I care 'bout is which of ya' two are more interestin'. Which of ya' two are stronger in these exp'riments." He grinned maliciously, and slapped Tsuna's back as hard as he could, earning a cough of pain from said brunet. "And it seems to me tha' this kid right here is the more ex'primented one here, meaning he's gotta be st'rnger."

With that said, the man walked out, shutting the jail shut. Fran tried to run out in attempts to catch him, but instead, he nearly got his arm squished in by the closing bars, only getting a nasty gash on said arm. "Tsuna!" He shouted, shaking the bars as his chains shackled against them. "Give him back! Take me instead!"

"Fran!" Tsuna cried out. "Fran!"

The man paid no mind to Fran, or to Tsuna's cry of help and agony. "Tch! Shut up, you brat!" Tsuna gasped as two shost rang out and felt his shoulder slack. Blood oozed out the hole on his right shoulder, and the man blew the smoke from his gun before keeping it. That kept the brunet quiet and panic about his mound, and the man felt proud of himself, and carried on.

Fran stayed quiet and in a daze, never actually seeing his friend been shot before. He fell to his knees, and stared, not minding the shot wound he received by his neck, that continued to ooze blood. Instead, he mumbled to himself... "Tsuna..."


	3. Start Experiment and Covered Birthmark

**Hey guys, advanced Happy New Year! 2012's ending in a few days, and soon, it'll be 2013 jan 1, then school will start again (NOOOOOOOOOOO), then summer, then...CO /shiver/...then more RP-ing I guess, then I'll be a damn second year and then it repeats and repeats until the next thing I know I already have a red ID and I'm a senior, then I'll be the Deputy Wing Commander-**

**-I'm stopping.**

**Deep breath.**

**So yeah. New year's and all those resolutions that never really push through lol. Anyway, I don't think my updates will be as frequent anymore, but rest assured, this story will. keep. going.**

**Well, enjoy your new years, and have fun! But for now, do leave a review and enjoy reading!**

* * *

Fran stared blankly at the space beside him, bloodstains splattered on said spot. There was a feeling of numbness coming from his wounds, but the tightening feeling in his chest overrode those. This spot beside him was Tsuna's. It didn't show on his dull face, but he was getting worried. No, he was worried and guilty. He could have stopped that man—he didn't want Tsuna to be in any more pain than he already had, even though it was inevitable as long as they lived in this hell.

They were the 'best out of the best,' as a scientist called them that they had to be completely isolated from the normal ones. Initially, there were five of them, but it's been reduced now to two, due to the…'failures' of the experiments. It was if someone crawled up on him, locked their arms around him, and whispered softly into his ear, _"Tsuna's going to be a failure…"_

"NO!" The green-haired boy shouted out hoarsely from the wound, covering his ears with his palms. "Shut up! Tsuna's stronger that he looks, shut up!" No, he wouldn't let that stupid voice get to him. He had more trust in Tsuna than that, and Tsuna had more trust in him to think about him like that. He would be a failure of a best friend, or a brother even, if he dared lower himself to thinking like that.

Still, the possibilities were there, and possibilities were endless. He could be a 'success,' but still, he could be beaten up again, or starved…or brutally murdered even! The chances are slim, but he wouldn't know. Only those in the lab would know, only those who've seen it, would know.

The shadow that figuratively clung upon him chuckled, and whispered once again, _"But do you know what you're thinking…? Do you even realize that you're thinking…?"_

Normally dull eyes widened at this. W-What was he thinking? Why was he thinking? "I-I'm not." Fran whispered shakily. "I'm n-not! T-Tsuna's going to live, you dumba-ass." It was more like he was whispering as if he was reassuring himself that his friend would make it out alive, like usual. He shook the thoughts out of his mind, and forced it clear. Then, he spoke to himself as if it were a chant, a mantra ignoring the devious chuckle of the shadow—his inner self. No matter how hard it was to speak, he pushed himself to speak.

"He's going to make it, he's going to make it, he's going to make it…"

* * *

A thud filled the room, followed by a groan of pain as Tsuna was harshly thrown onto the metal bed. Lights switched on above him, nearly blinding him. He felt something cold poke through his skin, before letting out a scream. A pair of tweezers was going inside the bullet wound from earlier, removing the bullet raw and dry. "Stop it! IT HURTS!"

No one paid attention to it, used to the normalcy of it in this place. The scientist continued his ministrations, and once he got the bullet, he pulled it out mercilessly, and placed the bullet on a tray. He wiped his sweat before looking back at the rest of his team. "Don't bother with sewing that skin. It would most likely open up again with what's going this time." They nodded, and he nodded back.

Tsuna panted heavily, and looked straight into the ceiling, knowing what was next. The scientists pressed a button on the bed, and leather straps then bound him to the said bed. Afterwards, they took out their formulas and materials for today's experimentation, and were placed on a table with wheels. The lights were adjusted so that they were not only in one place, but instead, were pointing in every possible direction while still completely illuminating him. They then talked among themselves, and this time, Tsuna decided to listen in.

"Today, my fellowmen, we will use the new formula Professor Verde has given us." One spoke. "This new formula is still nameless, but its components have been clearly explained to us, lead scientists." He said, taking out a transparent glass with transparent liquid in it. "From what he has told us, it is a mixture of the diluted forms of S234-11, R887-X and T59804, gunpowder and blood." He looked at the scientists, and said, "What will be said next will be under Omerta, and you know what that means, yes?"

The scientists nodded, curious as to what makes this new, nameless, formula, so special. "The gunpowder is what Millefiore uses against the Vongola, and the blood…" The scientist noticed a lone caramel eye eyeing them, and frowned. He asked his fellowmen to huddle up, and whispered them the secret, still carefully eyeing the brunet.

Tsuna's eyes narrowed. He didn't understand most of what was said as they were quite far, but he was able to understand that a new formula, which seemed to be stronger than the last one, which brought out his power to defeat the man who stabbed his eye. He caught 'gun' and 'blood,' and he shivered. He didn't want that to be in his bloodstream, but he had no choice. It was weird though, that the scientist the conversation, Verde, wasn't helping him. Did he not know about him—or simply not care?

Once he saw the scientist frown at him, he looked back up to the lights, and bit his lip. He was a prisoner here, and he was subject to all this until he dies. He has no choice in his say, because it would all be useless.

However, he did not stop listening. A spark in him flew, and suddenly, all those he heard just now engraved themselves in his memory. Something tells him listening would get him somewhere—anywhere. And that was enough of a hope for him to think, 'Maybe I can get out…'

"Do you understand, men?" The scientists soon got out of their huddle, and nodded among themselves. "This boy here, E-027, would be our first test subject. As what his records say, he has been producing wonderful results on the previous formulas of Professor Verde." All looked at Tsuna, who flinched under their gazes. "As he is the best, he will _of course, _withstand this new one. All clear?"

All nodded, except one. "Sir," she asked, "Does Professor Verde agree with us? I mean, with our terms and regulations, and that we don't use lab rats like he does."

"Good question." The man smirked, pushing up his glasses to the bridge of his nose. This rookie was quick to catch on things, he noted, and looked at the brunet. _'Now, when he hears this, he would know he could never escape.'_ "Scientists are to do everything for science, even sacrificing lives. Not to mention, we have a code, do we not? We have to respect all sources of other scientists and let them have their privacy. Meaning, if we don't tell, he doesn't ask. Simple." The girl nodded, and he nodded back. Seeing as no more had questions, he looked at Tsuna, and smirked.

For a moment, his eyes glowed orange once again. A drawing entered his mind—the scientists drawn like stick people, with black crayons. He itched to get the red crayon, and the blue crayon as well. He wanted to _decorate _them, make them _pretty _and _perfect. _He slowly reached for it…reach…reach...reach—

"_**No.**_

_**Don't."**_

Something inside him screamed at him, the same voice that told him just yesterday to do what he did to the man, told him to stop. It was the same voice that saved his life once too many times in the past. And now, he knew better than to disobey the voice that saved his life.

Tsuna's mind seemed to have shut down that complete moment. Did he…did he just hear right? "N-No way…" He mumbled to himself and bit his lip hard, drawing out a little blood. That scientist—Verde, he recalls-, couldn't help him? Because…because of this messed-up _**science? **_

"Let's start, dear men." The scientist spoke, and soon, everything was turned on. Machines started turning, and the scientist started putting on their disposable gloves. The buff men by the doors stuck closer to each other, guarding the doors from any unwanted disturbances, and that no one may get out or in without any proper identification or permission. "Clear?"

And somewhere inside him, as he heard the agreement of the Scientists to start, and as he saw them looming over him, a voice—the voice that screams at him every night to give up, whispered,

"_You'll never be saved."_

* * *

A loud shot rang in the air as the birds flew away from the bullets. In the forest, a girl, about fifteen, stood alone in nothing but a tattered dress, a rifle slung over her shoulder. She said nothing, and aimed her rifle at a deer next, waiting in the shadows for a chance to eat lunch.

Her arms and legs were littered with bruises fading, but were still very visible. She had dark hair until her shoulders, and narrowed azure eyes which seemed too old for her, and a golden flower-shaped birthmark under her left eye. What was striking about that is the fact that an X-shaped scar marred said birthmark.

When the deer stopped moving, she wasted no time in shooting it in between the eyes. The deer had no time to react, and fell to the ground, dead. She ran to it, and checked its pulse—gone. A childish smile crawled up to her lips, and got the bayonet knife her rifle had to prepare her lunch. As she did so, a certain brunet's face came to mind, and smiled tenderly.

She wondered how he was after she escaped. She offered her help to him, to set him free as well while the place was in chaos and flames, but he declined. Then, her memory drifted to a green-haired boy whom he considered a brother, a friend, and that he wouldn't leave him behind. At that time, the green-haired boy was half-dead, completely beaten up with that day's experiment and with the manual labour done. She had tried her best, and smiled. Instead, she brought them to a safe place near the burning building, and gave each of them a kiss on the forehead, a promise of sorts. It was a hidden promise to come back, a promise that they will meet again, no matter what.

Nostalgia filled her up as she finished slicing the deer. She got some wood, and placed them in front of her in such a way she could cook the deer. Azure hues suddenly turned darker, and then glowed. Touching the wood, she gently traced a pattern on it, and lifted her finger, and snapped it. Suddenly, the wood began to burn, and she began to cook her food.

Her memory again drifted to the brunet and the green-haired boy, and she smiled. Her eyes filled with determination, as a vision flashed before her. "Change it." She mumbled. "You can change that, Tsuna-kun, Fran-kun."


	4. Disgusted and Distraught

**Whoo fast updates again LOL. But seriously, I won't know when I'll stop updating fast okay? So if I do, please be patient (I'm fast now because it's Christmas Break/New Years Break ehehehe), okay~? Thanks!**

**Thanks again for reviewing constantly, Ayz283, you keep me going! I love how you're always guessing what comes next, since it gives me a ton of ideas ehehe owo;; Also, I hope you question of why Verde doesn't know was explained last chapter; aaaand I'm planning to include Uni sometime in the future, I guess :D**

**Also, thanks for reviewing as well, Sylvia-san! You've given me an idea, which, if you look reaaaaaaaally deeply, is here, and it'll progress to the next chapters too XD.**

**Well, for now, enjoy! Do leave a review if you'd like; they keep me giddy~ :D**

* * *

It was as if a new flame entered Tsuna the very moment that transparent liquid entered his bloodstream. He can feel his blood vessels on fire, burning in pain and agony. The scientists slowly pushed the needle in deeper while pushing the syringe slowly as well and that did nothing to help; instead, it worsened the situation. Pale, malnourished arms shook violently, hitting against the metal bed, creating noise.

He wanted to scream so badly, let everything out. But when he tried to open to open his mouth, he arched his back and coughed out blood. His neck did an instinctive whiplash with said reaction on the metal bed, and instead of his head hitting his back, his head hit hard against the metal. He couldn't scream. He couldn't even beg. The moment he tried to let a single groan come out of his throat, his back would arc, his whole body would jerk as he would do another whiplash on the table, and cough out blood.

A scientist wiped her face off the blood that hit her. She stood in front of the table, watching the poor child struggle to scream. Pity welled up in her, but her pride as a scientist crushed it down immediately. "Sir," she questioned her superior, who sat by the door as he gave out orders, "What…what is happening to the…subject?" There was a bitter feeling of disgust that pooled in her stomach as she let out the word 'subject' instead of 'boy' or 'child,' but her pride always overwhelmed everything, it seemed.

"It seems like a side-effect, but not quite." He said, lacing his fingers together and propping his chin on the interlocked fingers. "A side-effect happens after the experiment, but the jerking and all are happening during the process." He frowned for a moment, but it became a small grin as he realized something. "This just means we're doing great; we're succeeding."

The woman bit her lip. This was not how she wanted to be like when she became a scientist. She expected to help people, which was her goal for being such. She wanted to help doctors help people by making great discoveries on medicine. She wanted to help astronomers find things in formulas that can determine the fate of their planet Earth. She wanted to make something to create a wonderful change in society that would benefit everyone else.

But she didn't want this. She didn't want to help doctors by killing those they're supposed to help. She didn't want to experiment on formulas designed for warfare and Mafia usage by using people as test subjects. She didn't want to make a good change for all by sacrificing an innocent life all for science—

-she felt disgusted

But at whom, or what, was quite unclear.

"Chrome?" The man spoke. He noticed how her facial features slowly morphed into different ones as her body reacted. A frown and she would shudder. She would blank out, and suddenly, her purple hues would dull immediately. It was worrying—a scientist should not act so carelessly. "Are you okay?"

The woman, Chrome, jerked and looked at her superior. "A-Ah. Yes." She mumbled, before looking at the boy. She took in the appearance of the boy, but what engraved in her mind were the facts about him. He couldn't scream, so he bled. He couldn't cry, so he hid. He couldn't…he couldn't live normally, and so he gave up.

A hand flew up to her own eye as she looked at the injured one of Tsuna's. She had everything he didn't have, and even though it was supposed to make her feel better, it didn't. She felt horrible—trash. As she watched her fellow scientist plunge wires into him, which were connected to different statistic screens, and typed away on their keyboards without even sparing Tsuna a simple glance. Chrome bit her lip again, partially clawing at her eye. If her scientific pride would continue to crush the clawing feeling inside her, then she would claw herself from the outside in attempts to tune out the harsh realities of the world.

"That's good." The man said. He couldn't afford one of his best scientists to be out of it, as it could cost him the whole experiment. He looked at one scientist and asked him. "You there. How is it going with the boy? Any failures?"

"Sir, none, sir." He replied, not even sparing his superior a glance, which luckily was acceptable. "His blood vessels seem to be rejecting the formula, twitching and faltering with his pulse every now and then, but in the end, his system accepts in. However, due to the reactions of his system, it would take a while before we get any positive or negative results, sir."

The lead scientist frowned lightly at this. He can't afford slow progress, not this time. "We need to quicken the pace. Professor Verde will be coming next week to give us another formula—this time, it would be for pure nuclear warfare in case World War III ever happens. The President of Italy has asked him specifically to do it, and we would be, again, volunteering to take the formula for testing." His eyes roamed to the six remaining bottles of transparent liquid, and he smirked. "Take three more bottles, and inject it into him like a while ago. If we do it over and over again, his blood stream would be accustomed to it, and maybe the acceptance process would speed up. Go!"

The purple haired scientist was the remaining free one, so she took three more bottles, and walked to the nearly-unconscious brunet. His hair was sprawled across the bed, his arms and legs, pale and malnourished. Pity grew, but science crushed it once more. She took a needle, took the contents of one whole bottle, and set the empty bottle aside. She stared at the shining silver tip, before aiming it at the thin, pale neck—a place where the formula would most likely spread faster without much fatal damage. She pricked the skin, and started pushing both syringe and needle deeper into him, waking him up and sending him into a fit of coughing blood. Chrome bit her lip again.

She was so disgusted.

She was a monster.

She was scared.

* * *

Reborn walked around aimlessly around the forest, eyes downcast along with his fedora. He knew that Lal was right, and what she did was simply retribution. But he knew and believed that what he said to Luce was correct. Luce can't mope forever; she was the sky—their leader. What are the clouds without a sky to float by? What is the rain without a disaster to calm? What is the lightning without a home to strike back with gentleness? What is the mist, without anything to hide? What is a storm, without nothing to be loyal to?

And…what is a sun without anywhere to shine?

He clicked his tongue and grabbed his black gun from his jacket. He needed some stress relief—if he had no one to kill, the trees would have to do. After disengaging the safety trigger, he aimed his gun at a tree, and his eyes began to glow. A growl erupted from his throat, and whispered before shooting, "Chaos!"

Three shots and the tree were engulfed in a fury of bright yellow flames. Another shot to the same tree, and soon, even the ground where its roots were buried under, began to set up in flames, affecting the trees in close proximity with said tree.

It wasn't enough. It was so chaotic, so messed-up, but it wasn't enough. The glow in his eyes grew brighter, and his gun began to glow as well. He rose his arm up once again, and turned around. He readied himself, and whispered under his breath, "Chaos."

Again, flames went up everywhere, engulfing more trees now than before. He stopped for a while as he gathered his thoughts. Why was he so affected by what Lal said, or how Luce reacted to him? It was his business, not hers. Not theirs, not the Arcobaleno's—Reborn's. Sure, it was retribution in a sense, but he wondered to himself, since when did Reborn care?

He never cared about others' opinion on him, unless it was about how he instilled fear into others. His ego would inflate at those, and he would be proud. Pride would swell up in him, and he would be more than happy to continue being a hitman. But when it was about how merciless he was, how self-centred, how self-absorbed he was, he would ignore them all and continue his task. Why? Because this was the mafia; and in the mafia, these were still all normal. Trivial matters like those were nothing but trash.

As flames began to lick his feet, he calmed down. He looked down, and his eyes narrowed. A blue flame was evident in the yellow flames—Rain Flames. He stood straighter and tipped his fedora upwards, his inner turmoil momentarily forgotten. "Come out wherever you are," he said to no one in particular.

Slowly, the dangerous sun flames that coated part of the forest began to fade as blue flames took over them. The trees were dead and have been turned into ashes, which the rain flames can no longer save, but instead, they saved further destruction of the soil and other partially-burnt trees. The chaos began to disseminate, calm and gentleness overriding it.

"Reveal yourself!" Reborn called out once more, eyes darkening but glowing stronger. No one replied to him, and he grew more and more irritated as the seconds flew by. He raised his gun once more, preparing to shoot, when suddenly, a shot was heard.

A bayonet knife flew past him, embedding itself into the ground. He looked down behind him, and saw a paper tied to it. He surveyed his surroundings, checking if anyone was there—his eyes focused on the momentary flash of black and dark green by a tree in the distance—familiarity overwhelming him. Once he lost sight of said colours, he bent down to get the knife and stood back up. Removing the paper, he held it in one hand and read it. The message was written in blood, he presumed, and brought it to his nose—deer blood. His eyes widened by a mere fraction as he read, the glow in his eyes fading. His glass grew fuller and fuller as he read, completely stunned.

He kept the paper in his breast pocket, before dropping the knife, and heading back home, distraught filling his mind. He needed to tell everyone about this, even if most of them are pissed at him already. One thought filled his mind as he pulled his fedora down.

Just what really was going on?

* * *

Tsuna panted harshly on the metal bed—table, knew it was a table-, blood dripping from his lips. He was tired. He was thirsty. He wanted to scream. He wanted…freedom. But how, how can he aim for something so far…like the sky?

For a moment, his mind began drawing again—it wasn't a person or an animal. It drew this time on a blank paper, no pre-made art at all. A light blue crayon was lifted, and it began to draw and colour on said blank canvas. It first drew a cloud, and then, it coloured outside the drawn cloud. A sky.

He drew something he knew he could never see or attain ever again…the big, blue sky.

But…something was missing. A sky wasn't all blue, and so there were clouds. He picked up an indigo crayon, and began swirling it around the bottom of the paper. And now, it had the mist to not make it so lonely…but there were so many things missing from this picture. He was a teenager, but a child at heart, hence, perfection was a must. He brought up a red crayon and drew storm clouds, another blue crayon to draw rain droplets, a green one to draw lightning strikes…

It was still missing something—the sun.

He looked around his mind for a yellow crayon, and found none. He frowned. He needed a sun for the sky to be complete, but he didn't have one.

The scientist beside him jerked and looked at him with purple eyes. The drawing faded in his mind, the colour indigo being left behind. She placed another syringe in him, and he bit his lips in resignation, tears falling from the corner of his eyes. He was stuck here forever, resigned to his faith. No one would ever care for him, and Fran would most likely forget him, which would be better for him…He closed his eyes and prayed for everything to end. If death meant freedom, the would be glad to accept—

Caramel eyes shot open as a gentle hand held his in theirs. He came eye to eye with purple hues, brimming with tears. She gave him a small smile of sadness, and whispered to him as she injected more into him, "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry."

His eyes widened as she bent down and kissed his cheek, purple hair touching his cheeks. It was warm…and caring…He gave a little reassuring smile to her, and she bit her lip as she stood back up and removed the injection. She went back to get more from the tray, hoping that no one saw them. He watched her retreating figure, and for a moment, a flame flickered in his eyes. She gave him a new found hope now, hope that he would live.

Hope to have a complete sky, with a sun.

* * *

"_**I'm not dead, Uncle Reborn.**_

_**And here I thought the Arcobaleno were smarter than this."**_


End file.
